Living and Dying
by Sam-Tony
Summary: Basic recap of the movie plus extras from Matt's pov and the aftermath of it all. John/Matt


The knock at the door couldn't have come at a worse time

Title: Living and Dying

Author: Sam-Tony

Fandom: Die Hard 4

Pairing: John/Matt

Rating: FRAO – slash, sex, daddy!kink, language, bullet wounds and bad guys

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.

Summary: Basic recap of the movie (plus a few extras) from Matt's pov and aftermath follow up.

Living and Dying

The knock at the door couldn't have come at a worse time. It was late, he was wired to the point of tired, and his harddrive had just started acting weird; never something he needed if he was going to make the rent. As it was, with his fingers hovering over the delete key, he had almost ignored it.

He had found out a few minutes later, answering that knock had been the only thing that had saved his life.

But right then, the older man standing on the other side had only irritated him further. The sharp eyes, clearly telegraphed irritation and annoyance showing in the barely contained impatience, had tempted him to give in to the voice inside his head urging him to just shut the door and lock it, leaving his neighbors to call the cops if the guy didn't leave. Only the fact that the guy was older, and fairly good-looking (ok, so he was perfect Daddy material - didn't mean Matt had to ignore the late hour) kept the door partially open so that the badge the man had displayed shone clearly, even in the dimly lit hallway.

It figured the guy had placed it to fall, perfectly reflected, in a shaft of light coming in from the streetlight outside. Probably the first thing cops learned in cop school…

Snark had been the order of the day, even at 3am in the morning, as Matt felt the guy – John McClane – follow him into his apartment, picking up and breaking one of the collectibles the Warlock had talked him into buying last year. When McClane mentioned the FBI and hacking, Matt's hopes that this was all a big misunderstanding had faded, sinking down to hide behind his shoelaces along with his heart.

He had known that chick with the sexy voice and her 'simple job' had been too good to be true …

Grabbing up his laptop and shoving his other gear in his bag, he had waited until McClane had turned his head to try for the window - even had it opened a bit when the shooting started; that was when his world shifted from 'oh crap' to 'holy shit' as the bullets blew out spider-veined holes in his window and continued to tear up his tiny apartment. When his mind stopped babbling enough to realize that the heavy weight making it hard to breathe was McClane lying on top of him, covering him from head to toe with his own body, his world spiraled up into a whole new level of 'holy fuck!', his wired and screwed up hormones immediately springing to attention at the feel of the hard bulk pressing him into the floor.

Fortunately the violent hail of bullets and his own frantic scrabble behind the older man as they ran from the bad guys had kept McClane from noticing his – condition.

In the car, after his apartment had literally exploded, his computer wired with a virus and a shitload of C4, Matt had sat in the passenger seat shaking from both reactions. All the older man had seen was his shaking, and with a smug little smile, put it down to adrenaline, promising it would pass. Only, it hadn't been just the adrenaline, or even mostly the adrenaline, that had Matt gasping for breath, unable do more than allow his mouth to react without engaging his brain first. He had been hard ever since he had opened the door.

The car chases, the crazy maneuvers that slung him all over the front seat and had him reaching for the 'oh shit' handle, foot bracing against the dash for traction – being chased by guys with guns in helicopters, obviously wanting very badly to turn them into a smear on the highway – taking out the gun **in** the helicopter with nothing but the geyser of water from a destroyed fire hydrant…

Yeah it was scary. It was crazy, it was insane – and sexy as hell.

And then, in the tunnel – the unseen screech of cars crashing around them in the dark, coming at them from every direction…the feel of strong hands throwing him against the wall; the cold, hard concrete harsh and digging into his back as, once again, the equally hard body covered him as a truck crashed into them on the opposite side of the column, rattling his teeth and his already frazzled nerves.

The next moment finding him face first in that concrete column in the dark, his hands spread, scrabbling and finally bracing against the rough surface with his cheek as other hands found his zipper, releasing his cock, hard and leaking, into the chill air as his jeans were pulled down enough to give McClane access to his ass. The burn was both painful and very welcome as the older man set a fast pace, his breath panting harshly in his ear, somehow grounding him. McClane finished first, but the hand that surrounded him in a callused grip knew exactly what it was doing, taking him over before the warmth suddenly inside him had time to register.

McClane had been gone before the blood had stopped pounding in his ears. Still breathing hard, Matt had found him at the entrance to the tunnel, half crouched, half lying behind a car, the wreck of both their borrowed police car and the enemy helicopter a fiery block of debris beyond the tollgates.

"You killed a helicopter with a car." Had been the only thing his overloaded mind had been able to come up with.

"I ran out of bullets," and a laugh had answered him, and that had been it.

Until they had made their way clear of the area and Matt had frowned at the way McClane was moving. Mentioning he looked liked he was hurt, the only reply the older man sent back had been an almost smug smirk as he had quipped, "Yeah. Sexy, right?"

Matt's unthinking, "No!" had been immediate. A gut reaction to the fact he was finding he didn't like the thought of the older man hurt, or worse. A far cry from just a few short hours ago when he had first opened his door, his only thought being how he could get rid of this guy with the least amount of hassle. Whether the change in attitude was due to the very hot sex, or the fact that McClane had saved his life several times over, he didn't know – and was fairly sure he didn't want to know.

When the bad guys took over the TV networks for their posturing rhetoric and then blew up the Capitol building, Matt had gone into a kind of mini-shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. The fact that the Capitol was still intact only registered as an afterthought, most of his mind racing, trying to reconcile the reality of a Fire Sale with the half-formed amusement he had carried around with him ever since he had known enough to understand the concept.

It was nothing at all like he had imagined, and his dazed, half-denial admission that he had thought it would have been cool – just hit the reset button and viola, a new, improved America would automatically appear on the clean slate, had been met with both cool disapproval and downright anger from McClane. That disappointment had hit him like a kick to the stomach, hurting worse than anything, and had him scrambling to find some way to undo some of the damage he had unwittingly caused. He thought he had managed to redeem himself, if only a little, by remembering the old satcom systems, giving them a possible target and direction, and he tried not to think too hard about what the thawing of that cool regard meant to him.

He **knew** he had gotten a smile out of McClane in dealing with Delores, the OnStar lady, though he was insanely grateful when McClane seemed to have glossed over his use of the older man as his 'dad'. As far as Freudian slips went, that one had been frigging huge…

And then there was the whole thing at Middleton station. The way McClane had kept Matt behind him - the brutal and decisive way he had handled the bad guy, taking away his gun – the hand to hand combat – and suddenly Matt had one very hard, very inappropriate and ill-timed stiffie. It wasn't just the danger, either, because when the kung fu chick had twisted his arm up behind his back in a way that was so totally wrong, and demanded he type, all he had felt was the pain, not the toe-curling heat that zapped through his body and turned him into a babbling, teenaged-hormonal idiot with a raging hard on.

A big part of that heat returned with the SUV McClane drove right through the offices themselves, and again later at the sharp anger directed at the now-deceased Miss Mai upon finding out the psycho bitch had held a gun to his head. It wasn't hearts and flowers, but it had been concern and maybe even affection, and that thought alone had kept Matt's fingers flying over the keyboard long after the adrenaline had threatened to abandon him, taking his energy and courage with it.

But they now had a name (Thomas Gabriel) and a face (self important schmuck) to send to the FBI, even if that name had seemed to send a shockwave of fear through this country's first line of so-called organized defenses. **That** had been enough to scare Matt senseless - and the exploding utilities plant totally sucked, so not cool.

They had needed information and fast, but the flying? Again, so not cool; though John's happy comment of "Oh hey – we're up!" had caused a moment of slightly hysterical chuckling, which he had definitely kept to himself. After all, Matt had been 'up' for what seemed like hours, now.

And then McClane had tried to land their borrowed helicopter. On top of a fence.

After that, the low key threats against Freddie, the Warlock, only stoked the fire that had been slowly burning; stirring the smoldering embers around and sending a renewed flush of heat through him. Probably because Matt knew what violence those hands threatening the hacker were actually capable of; knew the way they had felt on his body, pushing him against the concrete, wrapped around his…

When Freddie had called the older man his Dad, Matt thought he was going to have to kill him. The glare he threw the smirking hacker behind McClane's back wasn't nearly payback enough for almost outing him to the man Matt was going to have to trust to keep him from getting killed until this thing was all over and the bad guys were dead or in jail. Preferably dead, but hey, he was easy…

And then Gabriel himself tapped into Freddie's computer cam, barging into the Warlock's 'command center', and McClane hadn't even flinched, trading insults and death threats with a psychotic madman who had the FBI trembling in their shiny shoes as easily as Matt did in the hacker chats.

Seriously hot.

Despite all he had seen, though, Matt had never truly been afraid of his reluctant bodyguard until Gabriel had threatened McClane's daughter. The look in the cold gray eyes had turned his blood to ice. And still Matt couldn't help throwing himself after the man, even if more McClane meant more bad guys, more bullets, more of these people trying to kill him. More danger.

Under McClane's somewhat exasperated eye, he tightened his seatbelt and **really** tried not to think about what that indulgent, knowing little smile did to him.

Falling two stories down a maze of cooling pipes while dodging even more bullets, was somewhat cause enough to reconsider…until, nursing the various bruises and pulled muscles, Matt found the system his algorithm had been designed to crack. Security for one huge fucking door that, as it turned out, led to a room full of servers - and Gabriel's ultimate target.

Thwarting the takeover of billions and billions of the country's net worth may have been the right thing to do – it had certainly been a rush, hacking into such a carefully hidden and complex system – but, unfortunately a keyboard, however sophisticated, was no match for a maniac's henchman with a gun.

As it turned out, Gabriel was a whole lot sicker and meaner than anyone had told him.

But Lucy Genero/McClane was right though – he needed a bigger set of balls if he was going to be 'that guy'. The guy that helped her father save a country. So when the man had threatened him, hit him and demanded he fix the quick encryption he had thrown over the system, he had refused.

And then Gabriel had placed a very big gun to his knee and Matt had known without a doubt, it wasn't the danger that had him chasing after McClane and made him horny. All Gabriel's gun did was make him sick. But the thought of John in danger made it worse. His hands were clammy, his whole body shook as he watched, helpless to do anything as Gabriel sent a F35 after him. A fucking F35 military plane against a semi. John never stood a chance…

And then there was Gabriel's voice, smooth and taunting, holding only glee behind the mocking regret as he spoke to Lucy, not knowing Matt would also take those words to heart…"I don't think your Daddy's going to make it…"

Arriving at the villain's secret lair found him numb, though his resolve had only been strengthened by McClane's death. Gabriel threatened. Matt refused. Gabriel shot him in the leg and still, through the pain burning fire through his body from that point, Matt had refused.

And then Gabriel offered to spare John's daughter. Fingers shaking, Matt began to type.

When John McClane showed up right after, Matt's fingers shook for an entirely different reason. He was alive… The gunfire didn't even register anymore – not until John was shot and all hell broke loose. When the gun slid close to him, he didn't even think about it.

By the time Gabriel had John at gunpoint, and McClane took the gun held against his own shoulder and used it to take Gabriel out by shooting himself in the process, Matt was ready, bringing the heavy weapon up and unloading all of the bullets into the last remaining henchman until the clip clicked empty.

About that time, the cavalry arrived - fashionably late, as usual.

Dropping the empty gun at the gentle insistence of the FBI (he really had had enough of people pointing guns at him today, thank you) he sank against whatever was at his back and allowed himself to shake.

It was all over.

Making love for the second time brought pain, even with the gentling effect of a bullet wound and the soft cradle of the morphine. Still, when John showed up at his FBI comped hotel room, it never once entered Matt's mind to say no. Refusing John meant refusing himself, and Matt's battered and abused body had been screaming for this ever since the tunnel.

Apparently, if the demanding kiss and hard line pressing into his hip before Matt had even gotten the door closed was any indication, gun battles, bad guys, helicopters, cyber terrorists, blood and bullet wounds affected McClane the same way.

Thank God.

At least there was a bed this time even if the frantic scrabble back to it reawakened sparks of pain to shoot out from the wound in his leg. As long as the older man kept kissing him, claiming his mouth and touching his body with the one good hand McClane currently had up under his shirt, Matt didn't care. The kiss, the touch; everything felt too good to be concerned about a little thing like pain. He groaned with it around the tongue invading his mouth and lost himself in kissing back.

Once he was lying prone on the bed, McClane hovering over him, the mouth tormenting him pulled back enough to smile.

"Did you miss your daddy?"

Even hopped up on painkillers and half out of his mind with lust and leftover adrenaline, the implications of that one word cut through him like a knife, bringing his world crashing down in a screeching halt. McClane knew.

Suddenly realizing he was trapped under the older man's larger bulk, he felt the blood drain from his face, his body growing cold.

He **knew**

Apparently some of the shock and fear must have shown on his face, because the gray eyes blinked, the larger man flinching as if Matt had hit him. Understanding dawned and the eyes warmed, blue seeping in as McClane smiled down on him.

"It wasn't too hard to figure out, Matty." The rough voice smiled, too, and he found himself reacting to the gentle chiding. "Though you screaming my name and 'daddy' at the gas station while jerking off in the john was a little telling."

"Yeah, that would…that would do it," Matt groaned, half in embarrassment, half in arousal at the thought of the older man hearing him jerking off in the dirty restroom of the local gas station so small it didn't even have a name. He hadn't thought he had been that loud, but the mental replay of the tunnel, and the rough handling had had him keyed up for hours, and it had only gotten worse as the miles had stretched on and McClane had started talking about his family…fuck, this was wrong on so many levels…"Wait – you saw me?"

"Yeah." McClane smiled. "I thought you were going to challenge Warlock to a duel or something with that glare of yours. Though if it makes you feel any better, I don't think Delores quite had it before she hung up."

Yeah, well, Delores could take a flying fuck; as long as she didn't show up knocking on his door in the next hour or three, he didn't care. Nuzzling into the thumb he just now realized had been stroking his cheek, Matt felt himself flush even as he asked, "So…you're not mad?"

That fond sigh met the question and he had the sudden impression that, if this conversation hadn't been what McClane had in mind when he entered the front door, it certainly was now. "No, I'm not mad. Is this what you want, Matty?" he asked. "What you need?"

Yes. YesyesyesFUCKyes…

"I – I don't need it - , " he demurred. "But…"

"But you want it." John finished for him, and it wasn't a question. No doubt the very hard cock still trapped inside his sweats had been the older man's first, or rather, second, (third?) clue. The man was a detective, after all…and didn't they teach observation in cop school?

And seriously, after everything they had been through, even now, with his most private fantasy no longer a secret, Matt had never felt so safe…

Turning into the hand cupping his face, Matt sighed, admitting, "I want it. Please?"

"Then say it, Matty," John scolded lightly. "Tell me what you want."

"I want…I – I can't – "

"Tell me, boy!"

"Fuck me, Daddy!" Reacting to the demand in the sharp tone, he cried out without thinking, his hips jerking involuntarily against the boding pinning him. "Please…oh God…"

The chuckle that ghosted over his nose as the older man kissed his forehead helped him calm down a bit, even though it did absolutely nothing for the blush he just knew was staining his face a really embarrassing shade of red.

"See? Now that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Staring at the ceiling seemed to be the best option right now. That, and hoping he didn't have a heart attack. Forget about dying of mortification…he was pretty sure nothing could save him from that. "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

"Why's that, baby boy?"

Thrown by the endearment, Matt groaned at the low, comforting tone and the words that threatened to fry his big brain and blow his little mind. "Because it's…kinky," he offered at last, unable to come up with anything more than that.

Another chuckle had him grinning up at the white swirls on the ceiling and rolling his eyes in sudden good humor. He had been shot at, shot, blown up, threatened by terrorists and almost crushed by a flying car for god's sake. When he put it that way, what was a little kink compared to what his life had already been like in the last 48 hours?

"So you want daddy to fuck you, huh?" The deep voice rumbled rough and dark in his ear and the heat that followed, arching him up off the bed and against the hard body covering him, had absolutely nothing to do with embarrassment. "I can do that."

Before Matt could do more than melt in relief, the next command came, sending another tendril of heat sizzling through him at the uncompromising tone. "Up."

Lifting his hips off the bed allowed McClane to strip him of his sweats and the hand that pressed him back down to the bed rubbed his belly in slow, heavy circles before reaching up underneath the tshirt to pinch and torment his nipples while the man himself leaned over and took his mouth in a slow, possessive kiss. Only when Matt was gasping for air and moaning a constant stream of pleas did McClane urge him up, and the tshirt off; the dark material catching over his head and turning his dark hair into a tangled mess as it was thrown into a corner.

"Beautiful, Matty." McClane smiled down on him, pinning him with that look, both hungry and possessive. "My beautiful boy."

Matt groaned, his body twitching at the words and the meaning behind them. "God yes – yours, Daddy…yours…"

With John kneeling over him, his prone body naked and sprawled across the coverlet, arms and legs open and askew, Matt had never felt so exposed in his life. The fact that he was the only one naked was another huge turn on and, apparently, yet another kink he hadn't known he had until the bad guys had decided to use him to help destroy the world. He really should find someone to thank for that…but then McClane was kissing him again and the rough drag of his cock against denim, metal and leather as the heavy body pressed into him was too incredibly good to remember how to form words.

"Undress me, Matty." John whispered into his mouth, refusing to release it. "This damned sling's a pain in the ass…"

Laughing, he arched up into the next kiss, fingers working to take care of buttons, zippers and hooks in short order. The shirt took a little maneuvering – they even had to break apart for a moment to pull it over McClane's head and resettle the sling against his chest – but soon after, the pants, underwear and the rest were gone, leaving John as naked as he was.

The first electric touch of skin on skin had him arching up into the older man, trying to hook his leg around the back of McClane's knee, only to come to a screeching halt as his left leg howled in protest at the pressure and awkward angle.

"Ow, fuck!" He hissed at the renewed flare of pain, immediately lowering the leg back to the mattress.

"Easy, Matty," John soothed him. "We'll do this the easy way. Just lie back and enjoy, let me do all the work…"

Gabriel had been right; an arm thrown over his eyes did nothing to stop the sound of McClane's chuckle at the childish gesture. "It's not fair," he pouted in frustration. How was he supposed to have sex if he couldn't hold on or even move his fucking leg? "Being shot sucks."

"It's all right, baby boy. Daddy'll take good care of you."

Suiting action to words, before Matt had gotten over the shiver that promise had induced, McClane knelt down and began kissing the wounded leg, his good left hand digging gentle circles into the abused flesh around his knee. Lips pressed against the bandage and McClane's tongue lapped, dragging across the skin and light hair just above it. It still hurt like a bitch, though the throbbing was fading now, being replaced by the throbbing a little further up and to John's left and, against his will, Matt found himself whimpering in relief and something more. "Please, Daddy, please…need you to fuck me…please…"

Apparently that was all McClane had been waiting for. Matt still wasn't looking, so it came as a surprise when a hot, wet heat engulfed his cock at the same time he felt a slick finger pushing inside his ass, rotating in and out at a slow, very deep pace.

"Oh…" Matt breathed out in surprise, looking down at the other man long enough to burn the image into his brain before dropping his head back to the bed.

McClane just chuckled around his cock and pushed in a second finger.

A third soon followed and Matt wasn't sure he wanted that much care; after all, the sex in the tunnel had had none of this concern, and the rough handling and aching burn had only intensified an orgasm that had had him seeing stars. Before he could protest the gentle handling, McClane pushed in deep and it wasn't fingers Matt felt brushing against his prostate and sending sparks of hot pleasure burning through his ass and straight to his cock. The slow, hard strokes rocked him, slapping into him and pushing him across the bed with every thrust. He noted absently that Daddy's arm was no longer in the sling, both hands holding on to his hips in order to keep the motion transferred to Matt down to a minimum.

"Fuck…fuck – yes! Yes…oh…fuck…more - more…"

The pleas had barely left his lips when the older man growled, speeding up to a hard, jarring pace that left him grunting out little cries and gasps of air. Matt was sure he was going to explode and take the hotel with him. Hands scrabbling on the tacky coverlet, he settled for reaching forward to hook them around John's legs under the clenching cheeks, using them to pull him in closer, unable to get enough force, enough depth.

Bending over him, the lips on his ear whispered dirty things, low and rough, and he had the slightly hysterical thought that he could probably come just from the way the larger man hovered over him, pressing him down and holding him captive. When his hands were taken from around the driving legs and placed above his head in a harsh grip, Matt didn't think he had ever been so blown in his life; the only thing missing was…

"Come for Daddy, baby boy. Let me see you come for Daddy…"

And suddenly he was coming hard, the older man's other hand milking him dry as Matt shuddered and cried out into the mouth that covered his, swallowing his screams. Even as he sank boneless into the mattress, John kept rocking them together, both tongue and hips fucking him through his orgasm. Driving in hard one last time, McClane stilled and released a cry of his own, this one panted into Matt's neck and shoulder as his body gave out on him and Matt felt the welcome flood of liquid heat spilling deep inside his body.

He never even noticed his legs had risen up and clamped around McClane's hips until the larger body had come to a stop, laying on him and pushing his legs open wider.

"John…" he panted sharply, torn between welcoming the heavy bulk and needing to release his trembling knee. "Please…"

A kiss placed between his eyes and McClane rolled off of him gently, away from the injured knee, and pulled back the covers while Matt lay getting his breath back. A quick trip to the bathroom yielded a washcloth, a glass of water and two white pills. Taking the pills and drinking half of the water, too wiped to move, Matt lay meek and submissive under the soothing passes of the warm cloth over his sensitive organs as John cleaned him up. A few minutes later and McClane was back, his arm again in the sling and a roll of gauze in the other hand. A quick check on his knee and McClane was satisfied he hadn't torn anything or restarted the bleeding.

By this part Matt was just about asleep, bleary eyes following the older man as he set about checking the door and turning off the lights. That done, he maneuvered Matt under the covers and slipped in with him, settling them face to face with both sets of gunshot wounds on top, and McClane's arm under Matt's dark hair like an extra pillow.

"G'night, Matty."

"Da – " But he couldn't. What if McClane only wanted…well, that…during sex, and not…anything else? "Nevermind."

In the dark, the kiss missed his lips, placed to his left eye instead. "What is it, baby boy?"

"You – you don't have to – "

"I want to, Matty. Now. What were you going to ask?"

"What am I going to do now?"

The silence filled up the room for what felt like forever until, despite his best efforts, sleep began to beckon and his body started demanding he pass out now. Just as he began to drift, the painkillers doing their job, soothing his knee and making his head feel fuzzy and his body comfortably heavy, he felt John shift besides him, the fingers that had stilled at his question again running through his hair. "I don't know, Matty. What do you want to do? You could go back to Camden," the low answer cradled him in the dark, demanding he listen. "Or – you could go back to New York…"

"With you?"

The whisper against his temple was relieved. "Yeah. Something like that."

He smiled. Wouldn't do to let McClane off the hook so easy…

"Gee, I dunno – you think…" The observation was interrupted by another yawn as Matt snuggled down into John's embrace. "…they'll give me back my…(yawn)…security deposit?"

The low rasping chuckle brushed across his forehead, followed by the rough scrape of beard stubble and soft lips. "Definitely not."

"Oh…okay…" Matt mumbled, already half asleep. Car chases, bullets, bad guys and mind blowing kinky sex put him out like a light every time. "New York sounds…nice…"

"You'll move in with me," McClane told him. "That is, if you want to."

"You really suck at this daddy thing, you know?" Matt murmured from under a dark fringe of hair.

John only chuckled and swatted him on the butt, shocking Matt into arching forward against him in surprise before mewling in approval. Burying his face into the older man's neck, he hung on, breath coming in renewed pants. "You better have your shit packed in the morning, Matty. We'll see about getting some of your other stuff replaced. Having the FBI kissing our asses for saving the country might as well be good for something."

Matt placed a smile against John's neck and wiggled in closer, sighing at the arm (once again out of it's sling) that curved over his hip to hold him protectively against the older man's body.

"Sleep, Matty."

"Yes, Daddy."

Closing his eyes, Matt was out like a light.

End


End file.
